As a young man from the Tujia people in this new era, while I couldn't claim an exhaustive understanding of the unique local customs and folklore of the Selenium Capital, I was certainly not unfamiliar with them. What stuck with me most vividly was the funeral ritual held after an elder entered the "Golden Pit Burial"—a three-day affair, commonly called the "Three-Day Assembly Burial." During this period, the bereaved family would hire a specialized troupe of Daoist masters to beat the funeral drums and chant dirges. I had witnessed these Daoist masters many times, following the yellowed old books in their rhythmic singing, yet I had never managed to discern the content of their songs. Now, hearing Jiyé suddenly mention that the funeral dirges actually contained material about "Sha," I was naturally shocked and intensely curious. (Golden Pit Burial: a local euphemism for the passing of the elderly.)

"Of course, they do," Jiyé chuckled, a dry, throaty sound. "Didn't you notice the Daoist masters perform several rites during the Assembly Burial? The dirges sung during those rites contain the content about Sha. We Tujia people have never viewed death as purely a sorrowful event. We believe humans are part of the natural world, and death is merely another form of life, no different than the changing of the seasons. That's why the Tujia people call a natural death a 'White Joy.' Furthermore, we traditionally revere our ancestors, so after an elder passes, the family hires a specialized Daoist troupe for spiritual transcendence to ensure the soul is not tormented on its journey to the underworld. This includes the rite of 'Driving Out Sha and Expelling Ghosts'."

"Driving out Sha and expelling ghosts? Does that mean Sha can be avoided? Will the 'Life Sha' and 'Poison Sha' we just navigated still exist?"

"Not anymore. Once someone has successfully passed through a Sha ground, the malignant energy has been dissipated, and the Sha naturally ceases to exist."

I see. Just as I was about to ask more, Man Niǎo Niǎo interjected, her voice trembling slightly. "Hey, listen here, you two old folks, can you stop spinning these grand tales right here? You're making my heart flutter—this isn't the time for idle chatter!" (Idle Chatter: joking around.)

Hearing Man Niǎo Niǎo say that, I felt it inappropriate to press further. I gripped my torch tighter, illuminating the cavern carefully, and led Tán Píng'ér deeper into the cave, step by measured step. Flower this time didn't run ahead alone; she stuck close to my thigh, following my every move.

After walking for a considerable time, the cavern showed no sign of ending. Instead, several branch tunnels, large and small, had appeared. After a lengthy discussion, we couldn't reach a consensus on which passage to take. We had no choice but to rely on instinct and select the largest available side tunnel. Although this passage was also littered with bat guano, the amount was noticeably less, and the foul odor had naturally diminished. The air quality was marginally better.

By this point, we dared not use the bamboo lamps or the flashlight anymore. One reason was to conserve kerosene and batteries; the most crucial reason was to use the torch to probe the air in the tunnels. If we accidentally entered a space without oxygen, using a flashlight would leave us dead without even knowing why—truly dying as wronged ghosts!

We hadn't gone far into that tunnel when several more branches appeared, intersecting east and west, crisscrossing up and down. Again, we entrusted our hope of survival to intuition, choosing the passage that seemed taller and cleaner. As Man Niǎo Niǎo put it, if we were to die, we might as well die looking up at the sky; if we lived, it would be for ten thousand years. In truth, I harbored another thought: these tunnels were as dense as a bead net, their paths entirely random. Perhaps, if our luck held, we wouldn't encounter the "Soul Sha" or "Death Sha" Jiyé mentioned—wouldn't that be a blessing?

We journeyed deeper and deeper through the myriad tunnels. The bat droppings on the floor grew scarcer, until finally, the cave walls smoothed out into dry rock slabs, showing no sign of any surviving flora or fauna—completely isolated from the outside world.

Of course, the path ahead remained an inky black expanse, showing neither end nor exit.

"Listen—what's that sound?" Man Niǎo Niǎo suddenly stopped, whispering mysteriously. The other three jumped at her abrupt exclamation. The hand holding my torch shook, and I halted; Tán Píng'ér gripped my arm even tighter.

The four of us stood silently, straining our ears for a long moment. Beyond the crackling of the torch and the heavy breathing of the four humans and one dog, there was absolutely no other sound whatsoever.

"Are your ears playing tricks on you?" I snapped at Man Niǎo Niǎo, annoyed. Fear of being frightened by others—surely that principle was understood?

"Damn it all, I clearly heard something behind us just now!" Man Niǎo Niǎo declared, then firmly wrapped her large hand around my neck again.

Seeing that Man Niǎo Niǎo wasn't joking, my heart clenched. I quickly pulled out the flashlight and shone it down the path we had come. A beam of white light stretched from near to far, vanishing into the darkness. I deliberately scanned the walls and ceiling carefully but saw nothing unusual. I wondered if Man Niǎo Niǎo was experiencing auditory hallucinations due to fear.

"Jiyé, you were walking at the very back, did you feel or sense anything behind us?" I asked Jiyé, still uneasy.

"Nothing at all," Jiyé replied, frowning. He reached into his basket and glanced at the fresh pork. "Everything seems fine. Niǎo Niǎo, did you perhaps mishear?"

"When we were walking, I heard a very faint jingling sound. When we stopped, it disappeared!" Man Niǎo Niǎo insisted, her expression rich with conviction.

Upon hearing this, Jiyé walked a short distance back the way we came under the flashlight beam, then returned. We listened intently, but there was absolutely no anomaly.

"Your ears must have misheard!" Jiyé told Man Niǎo Niǎo. Man Niǎo Niǎo started to look uncertain. "Did I really imagine it?"

"Why are you so timid? If you don't trust the three of us, you should at least trust Flower, right? If there were any unclean things around, Flower would surely see them and bark to alert us!" Jiyé was clearly growing impatient with Man Niǎo Niǎo’s constant alarming.

"How about this," Jiyé softened his tone. "Let's just sing some songs to keep Niǎo Niǎo from getting fanciful ideas and slowing us down. How about that?"

"Sing what? We should hurry up and find the exit! My little heart is pounding like a drum, I can barely hold myself together!" Man Niǎo Niǎo looked miserable, highly dissatisfied with Jiyé's suggestion. Tán Píng'ér and I exchanged amused glances. We couldn't believe Jiyé would suggest singing to ease tension in this environment—it was like a beggar hanging a key on his chest—finding joy in poverty!

"Alright then. Miss Tán is a rare guest here and hasn't heard Tujia folk songs. How about I sing a few authentic Tujia love songs first?" Jiyé volunteered proactively. We were overjoyed. Hearing Jiyé sing love songs—now that was a true first!

"Let's go, you can listen as we walk!" Jiyé waved his hand, coughed forcefully to clear his throat, and began to sing softly: "The moon rises, curved on both sides, shining on the mountain burning behind the back door. Though the fire burns the banana tree, its heart does not die; if the younger brother cannot love his sister, his heart will not rest..." To be honest, Jiyé's voice was far from great, but the melody was winding and affectionate, giving the performance a particular flavor.

"Do you have more?" Tán Píng'ér became interested.

"Of course, listen to this... The moon rises, white as silver, shining upon the yard’s cowpea trellis. I wish to be like the cowpeas, growing in pairs; do not be like the eggplant, standing alone... How was that? Did you like it?"

"It was nice! Are there more?" Tán Píng'ér’s interest deepened. Even Man Niǎo Niǎo and I gradually became captivated by the singing, forgetting our precarious situation.

"Shall we sing 'Six Cups of Tea'? Yingying and Niǎo Niǎo should know it. It's not much fun if I sing alone!" I was very familiar with this Tujia folk song, "Six Cups of Tea." Its melody was beautiful, and the lyrics carried significant charm. Thinking about it, rather than blindly wandering the cavern in silence, which created a suspenseful "silence more telling than sound," it was better to belt out a few tunes—that’s one of life’s great pleasures.

So, Man Niǎo Niǎo and I took on the female voices, following Jiyé as we hummed along.

"Drink one cup of your tea, and I ask you one thing: are your mother and father at home?" Jiyé sang.

"Drink your tea if you must, why ask so many questions? My mother and father are already eighty-eight!" Man Niǎo Niǎo and I responded.

"Drink your second cup of tea, and I ask you two things: are your elder brother and sister-in-law at home?"

"Drink your tea if you must, why ask so many questions? My elder brother and sister-in-law have already separated their household!"

...

"Drink your fifth cup of tea, and I ask you five things: is your younger brother at home?"

"Drink your tea if you must, why ask so many questions? My younger brother is still just a baby!"

"Drink your sixth cup of tea, and I ask you six things: how old is this young lady right here?"

"Drink your tea if you must, why ask so many questions? This young lady right here is eighteen years old!"

...

Finally, the three men harmonized together: "Yo-ye yo-ye yi-yo-yo-ye, this young lady right here is eighteen years old, yeah!"

Our voices grew louder and louder, until we were simply shouting at the top of our lungs. The sound bounced and refracted several times, disappearing into the depths of the cavern...

Tán Píng'ér listened, giggling aloud. Her clear, pleasant laughter echoed far, far away in the deep cavern. "This song, 'Six Cups of Tea,' is too funny... giggles... Her parents are already eighty-eight, and she has a baby brother? Are Tujia men that formidable?"

The three men were stunned silent by Tán Píng'ér's final remark. This girl usually kept a low profile; her temperament was gentle, and her voice soft and sweet. Yet, when carried away by the moment, she had uttered something that could crack the ground open.

Tán Píng'ér realized her slip-up, her pretty face instantly flushing crimson. Seeing me staring intently at her, she pinched me hard and murmured, so softly I barely heard, "I didn't mean... this song is clearly meant to flirt with girls... Oh dear!" Tán Píng'ér stomped her foot and bowed her head even lower.

"This song is just one typical example of Tujia love songs," Jiyé explained calmly from behind us. "It prioritizes entertainment over pure artistry, so people don't nitpick the slightly unreasonable lyrics..."

"Even so, that's still..." Tán Píng'ér was too shy to utter the word "flirting" again.

"Miss Tán, you don't understand. We Tujia people have always loved to sing. Before being influenced by Confucian culture, the Tujia temperament was naturally open and optimistic, and singing was the primary way to find a romantic partner! Even now, the Selenium Capital holds the 'Daughter's Fair' every July twelfth. It’s a veritable sea of songs, and if a man and woman match in song, they often become lifelong partners—such instances are countless. Not only do they sing to find a mate, but they sing when a child is born, and they sing when an elder passes... You could say, wherever there is a gathering, there is singing. The Tujia people have journeyed through thousands of years of vicissitudes accompanied by song..."

"The Daughter's Fair? That sounds fascinating! I hope I get the chance to see it sometime!" Tán Píng'ér's interest was immediately reignited.

"You don't need to go to the Daughter's Fair to see it. My Yingying here is a veritable prince of Tujia love songs. You can just sing with him..." Man Niǎo Niǎo’s words carried an undertone that Tán Píng'ér certainly grasped. She playfully scoffed at Man Niǎo Niǎo, glanced at me, and asked, "Is that true?"

"If you believe her, even cats will come looking to eat you. I certainly can't sing Tujia love songs. I might remember a few 'Flat-Mouth Songs' from when I was little!" I said with a wry smile. "Flat-Mouth Songs are good too! Sing one for us!" Tán Píng'ér insisted, unwilling to let it drop.

Man Niǎo Niǎo let out a sudden "Pfft" of laughter. I sighed at Tán Píng'ér and explained, "'Flat-Mouth Songs' are like this... Waa-waa-waa, like crying, you see?"

Tán Píng'ér gave a slight smile and stopped pleading for a song. She turned back to Jiyé. "Master Jiyé, why are all the songs you sang about men pursuing women? Are there any songs where women respond?"

"Plenty! Listen closely, I'll howl a few duets."

Jiyé first sang the male part: "My affectionate sister, listen to my words. A bee will not enter the autumn garden; a loving brother will not dote on an indifferent sister, just as the sun will not shine on the shady side of the mountain—no love, no affinity, no marriage." Then, he pinched his voice high: "My affectionate brother, do not tarry. Flowers bloom in the autumn garden; when the plum blossoms fade, new ones will appear. My affectionate brother, come boldly; affinity resides on the shady side of the mountain."

"This is one for a man testing a woman's feelings. Here's another one..." Before Jiyé could finish, Man Niǎo Niǎo suddenly jumped up and shrieked, "Listen! That sound is back!"

We were all startled again, our heated hearts feeling as if they had plunged into ice water, instantly constricting. We stopped walking and listened intently again, yet still heard no abnormal noise.

Seeing that we didn't believe her, Man Niǎo Niǎo grew agitated. "There really is something behind us! The sound starts when we walk and stops when we stand still! If I’m lying, may I be born a turtle's son!"

Jiyé, being Jiyé, maintained his composure in this critical moment. He waved his hand at us and said sternly in a low voice, "Let's walk forward—let's test it!"

We took a few steps ahead. This time, listening closely, we clearly heard a very low jingling sound not far behind us. When we froze in fright again, the sound vanished.

"Jiyé, could it be Soul Sha?" I asked softly, trying to control my pounding heart, pulling Tán Píng'ér closer.

Jiyé didn't answer. He took the torch from my hand, pulled an axe from his basket, and cautiously moved toward the source of the sound. The three of us stood rooted in place, huddled together, our hearts almost leaping into our throats.

"Damn it all, we were just scaring ourselves!" Following Jiyé’s distinct curse, he returned, holding an 8-shaped object made of thick iron wire. "How did my chalk line get pulled out?"

I looked closely and saw it was indeed the figure-eight needle from a carpenter's chalk line, used to anchor the line's end on wood.

Jiyé took out his chalk line from the basket, cranked the reel to wind the line, and said while winding, "Don't be afraid. I don't know when my chalk needle came loose, pulling the line with it. When we walked, the needle was dragged and bumped against the rock slab, causing that jingling sound."

We all let out a long breath, a mix of relief and the urge to laugh. Man Niǎo Niǎo patted her chest. "That bastard, I almost scared my soul right out of me!"

"Maybe I accidentally knocked it loose when I was feeling around earlier," Jiyé admitted sheepishly. "There was bat guano on the ground then, so we didn't notice. When we walked onto the bare rock slabs later, that's when we heard it. My carelessness!"

Now that the source of the sound was clear, although we couldn't scold or curse Jiyé, we inwardly laid a few sharp reproaches on him: How dare he yell at Man Niǎo Niǎo when he himself was the clumsy fool!

Man Niǎo Niǎo, completely reassured, cheered up instantly. She turned to Jiyé and said, "You have to sing a few more love songs as an apology to us."

"Singing? Fine!" Jiyé retorted, not backing down. He started with an introduction: "Tujia mountain villages have many songs, sing one and the whole hillside sings. If any sister likes the tune, come forward and give me a kiss!"

Tán Píng'ér’s face turned crimson. She lightly scoffed and whispered to me, "This old fellow is too much... I didn't realize!"

I signaled Tán Píng'ér to quiet down and listened as Jiyé continued with his raspy voice: "A three-foot-three plank bench painted bright red, pull the young man to sit in the middle. First, I don't want you to play with me; second, I don't want you to swear oaths. I'll turn into a silk thread and bind you... A plank bench padded with white cloth, sitting close to the young man to speak properly. Swear to marry me, or you’ll be struck by lightning if you go back on your word and seek another woman..."

Jiyé sang one raw, passionate love song after another, stirring our hearts until we were lost in the sincere and straightforward emotions they portrayed. We had long forgotten when and where we were.

Tán Píng'ér held my arm tightly, her breathing shallow, her eyes full of longing. I thought to myself, the saying, "Which man is not lovesick, and which maiden does not yearn?" is absolutely correct.

Jiyé was still singing, his voice growing louder, his emotion deepening, as if transported back to the beautiful days of his youth. The song echoed and reverberated in the deep cavern, continuous and unending.

We paid no mind to the bead-net-like network of tunnels, moving forward mechanically amidst the music. Even the endless darkness at the cavern's heart seemed to be torn apart by the singing, rendered listless and dull.

Although my own emotions were stirred, I wasn't as completely immersed as Tán Píng'ér. I remained anxious. How long would it take to find an exit traveling like this? Yet, I felt a flicker of hope: the fact that we hadn't reached an end yet meant there was still possibility ahead. Perhaps the exit wasn't far off? I prayed silently!

At this point, as the leader, I subtly shifted my forward strategy. I no longer exclusively chose the taller, cleaner tunnels. Instead, whenever we encountered a fork, I consistently chose the tunnel furthest to the right. This tactic held no profound reasoning; it was pure experience gleaned from playing maze games—these dense tunnels must have an edge somewhere, right? If there's an edge, the chance of finding the exit increases significantly. Jiyé and the others were too engrossed in singing or listening to notice this detail. They followed behind me, laughing and chatting, seemingly having forgotten all about "Soul Sha" and "Death Sha."

Jiyé finally grew tired and stopped singing after the final line.

As the last vestiges of the song drifted away in the cavern, I suddenly heard a woman's sigh directly behind us: "Ah—!" The sound was so ethereal, so mournful and poignant, so utterly piercing to the heart...